Red Sparrow

“With respect, Colonel Volontov is a beast of burden,” said Dominika. “He has no appreciation of an operation. He is doing nothing to further your interests or those of the Service. Now that I’m away from his lecherous stares, I no longer care about his opinions.”

Vanya turned and looked out the plate-glass window. “And what about Nash?”

“I developed a close friendship with the American,” said Dominika. “We saw each other frequently, just as you envisioned. Before I left Helsinki we had become… intimate.”

“And you believe you could have determined his activities?” He continued staring out the window, his yellow crown increasing in intensity. He’s going to agree, thought Dominika. It’s too important for him.

“Without a doubt,” said Dominika. “Despite Colonel Volontov’s unhealthy interest, Nash’s pylkyi, his ardor, was growing.” Dominika did not take her eyes off her uncle. “Unfortunately, prison and my interrogation somewhat derailed our romance.”

Vanya considered the whole idea. He desperately needed some action on the matter of the mole. His niece knew Nash better than anyone else did, and she certainly seemed motivated. But she was different in a way—the Lefortovo experience certainly had affected her—she seemed obsessed, driven now. Was she sweet on Nash? Did she want to spend more time outside Moscow, in the West, did she… ?

“Uncle, I was cleared,” prompted Dominika softly, reading his thoughts. “They told me I was reinstated, my record is clean. I’m the best officer, the best chance, to engage the Americans and identify the Russian traitor. This operation is a challenge for me now. I want to go up against them again.”

“You seem quite sure,” said Vanya.

“I am. And you should be. It was you who created me,” said Dominika. She saw how Vanya swelled up at that, his vanity was like a yellow balloon above his head.

“And how would you proceed?” asked Vanya. Dominika knew she had one thread to pull, gently.

“I would rely on your advice and guidance, and that of General Korchnoi.”

“In this matter, General Korchnoi has not been briefed,” said Vanya.

“I assumed that his department would be the logical place from which to work,” said Dominika. “If you have another idea…”

“I will consider bringing Korchnoi in,” said Vanya. The peppery uncle considering something he already has decided on, thought Dominika.

“Whatever you decide, we would keep it strictly razdelenie. I would clear operational steps directly with you or whomever you designate.”

“You know Nash is concluding his assignment in Helsinki?” said Vanya. He searched her face for a reaction, found nothing.

“I did not know,” said Dominika. “But it does not matter. There’s nowhere he can hide.”

=====

Gossip channels in Yasenevo started humming. Word was out that Egorov’s niece was back in the building, back from Finland; that was where the Service just scored a big success, very hush-hush. Did Egorova have anything to do with that? Rumors about an investigation? The usual malfeasance or something else? She looked the same, but different, thinner. Something in the way she looked back at people, crazy unblinking eyes. Now working in a private room in Korchnoi’s Americas Department. Special job for the deputy director’s niece, no surprise, but not just semeystvennost’, not just the expected nepotism. Just look at those eyes, nutcracker eyes—not the ballet.

She had petitioned General Korchnoi, asking his permission to join his department. He had paused and looked at her from under bushy white eyebrows, his purple mantle majestic. “I commend you for your fortitude in Lefortovo,” he said quietly. Dominika flushed. “We will speak no more of that,” said Korchnoi.

That afternoon Korchnoi had sat with the deputy director and sipped brandy and was briefed on Vanya’s operation to reestablish the relationship between Dominika and the American in pursuit of the mole. Korchnoi showed he was impressed, asked Vanya to approve bringing Dominika to the Americas Department. “It is the best place from which to work the problem,” said Korchnoi.

“Volodya,” Vanya said, the depth and length of their friendship apparent in his use of the affectionate diminutive, “I need your imagination on this problem. I need something new.”

“Between us, I will be surprised if we cannot come up with something,” said Korchnoi. Vanya refilled their glasses. “And strict secrecy on all of this,” he said, sipping cognac. “We don’t want to alert the mole to the noose tightening around his neck.”

SHCHI—RUSSIAN CABBAGE SOUP